The Noldo is IN
by vinvalen
Summary: Elrond gets by with a little help from his friends...or not.


The 'Big Three' have come out of hibernation at last. You have been warned.

*************

Erestor couldn't help but blink at the elegantly carved sign gracing Elrond's office door. It read:

'_THE Noldo is IN'_

The 'IN' part of the sign was detachable; mounted on a tiny hook so it could be flipped over to read _'OUT'._

Glorfindel silently appeared at his back, reading the sign over Erestor's shoulder. '_THE_ Noldo?" he observed incredulously. "I wasn't aware we were suffering a shortage. Was there a mass exodus nobody told me about?" He glanced around uneasily. "Come to think of it, where _is_ everybody?"

Erestor turned and leveled a glare at his companion. "I have no idea. They may have sensed another disturbance in THE Noldorin Force."

"Oh." Glorfindel replied sheepishly, trying frantically to think of a way to remove his foot from his mouth. He rapidly switched tactics as inspiration struck. "I thought he was done pouting about Gil-Galad and the heir-to-royalty business?"

"Hmpf…apparently not. But I rather suspect Elrond is on one of those personal metaphysical quests of his again," Erestor replied, unamused.

"You mean one of Galadriel's mystical fantasy tours for the purpose of 'finding oneself'?" the Vanya inquired. "Would Elrond even notice if he was missing?"

"Hmm," the Councilor replied. "Yes to the first, and to the second, your guess is as good as mine; but she has him doing all these little mental self-exploration exercises. I suspect she's still getting even with him for the birdbath fiasco."

"Oh yeah," Glorfindel grinned. "The Solstice celebration year before last…I seem to recall he and Haldir getting hammered, and Haldir telling him her Mirror was erm…_convenient_."

"That would be the incident to which I was referring, yes."

"Wait a minute…how did she find out?" Glorfindel's brow wrinkled in puzzlement.

"She consulted with Mithrandir after she kept getting images of a bus station men's room in someplace called New Jersey."

Glorfindel cringed. "Remind me again not to mention Haldir's Dol Guldur 'sabbatical'."

"Noted… I do however, admit a certain degree of trepidation. Yesterday, His Lordship asked me to mix finger paints. Then he stole my pot of library paste."

"What did he do with them?" Glorfindel asked, though not sure he really wanted to know the answer. "He tie-dyed his council robes last week."

"You haven't seen the graffiti adorning the Hall of Fire today, have you?" Erestor inquired blandly.

Glorfindel felt an overwhelming urge to beat his head against _'The Noldo's'_ doorframe.

"He desperately needs a hobby," Erestor observed. "Something other than growing those creepy mushrooms under the kitchen sink," he added, loudly enough to be heard beyond the closed door.

"He already has one…tormenting _us._" Glorfindel griped in a hissing whisper, attempting to shush Erestor.

"Sadly, I agree. I should have seen this coming. Things have been deceptively quiet since his last episode." Erestor sighed.

"Which one was that?" Glorfindel frowned. "I've lost count. The last one I recall involved catnip and that strange looking pipe he built. Wasn't that also when he climbed up on the cliff and sang for four days?"

"No. That happened the month before last. Really…you would know these things if you didn't keep locking yourself in the wine cellar," Erestor replied dryly. "The one to which I am referring was apparently inspired by Lindir's latest rendition of 'The Lay of Leithien' and he decided he'd try shapeshifting." Erestor glared at Glorfindel, whose aristocratic face had taken on a smirking leer. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Glorfindel. Now is not the time to indulge in your affinity for allusion."

"I'm sorry…you were saying?"

"Elrond. Shapeshifting. Or the attempt thereof, remember? It culminated in an infestation of fleas, a number of chewed table legs, and a hacked up hairball on the dining room carpet."

"Oh yeah…that was right before Celebrían chased him halfway to the Bruinen with a broom, wasn't it?" Glorfindel pouted. "I miss all the good stuff."

Erestor rolled his eyes before cautiously pressing an ear to the door of Elrond's office. "I'm not sure he's in there…I can't hear anything," he whispered.

"Oh, crap…" Glorfindel muttered, peering around nervously. "Are there any new potted plants in here?" He probably heard everything we just said."

Their speculations were suddenly interrupted by a bloodcurdling, high-pitched scream from inside Elrond's office; utterly inhuman and reminiscent of a dragon with its tail caught in the iron doors of Angband.

Erestor instantly leaped backward several feet, tripping over the hem of his robe before landing heavily on his backside.

Glorfindel, however, sprang into full-fledged hero mode, complete with visual effects (aka the Blaze of Glorfy™) celebrated in song and story from the Havens to Belfalas.

"That is _it_…on the count of three, we break down the door."

"Hah?" Erestor had the index fingers of both hands plugged into his ears.

"Never mind, I'll do it myself!" the Vanya yelled, backing up to the far wall for a running start.

Glorfindel was further motivated in his efforts by another hideous series of noises emanating from behind the door, sounds which reverberated all around and rattled delicate elven art pieces off their pedestals to crash to the floor. The ominous screeching was accompanied by an equally abhorrent caterwauling. The walls began quivering, and bits of plaster rained down upon Erestor where he sat frozen with dread.

"_Clean robes…jeweled shoes_

_But I don't know what I am gonna do…_

_Silk tunic…white hair tie_

_I don't need a reason whyyyyyyyy_

_They come a runnin' just as fast as they can_

_Every elleth's crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man…"_

Erestor's fingers were still plugged into his ears, but his jaw dropped in shock. He stared at the door. "Oh, dear Elbereth..._Please_ tell me you remembered to lock the armory, Glorfindel. Celebrían won't be going for the broom this time!!"

Glorfindel's shoulder meanwhile hit the door like a sledgehammer of damnation, taking it completely off its hinges. Had the door actually been locked, his maneuver would probably have been a lot more impressive. As it was, his momentum brought him to a rolling stop at Elrond's feet. Glorfindel shook his head to clear it and looked dazedly upward, noting several details in quick succession.

The Lord of Imladris' face wore a disapproving frown…the portion of it which could actually be seen.

It was rather difficult to tell behind the dark sunglasses and abundant facial hair. The beard itself was neatly trimmed into a straight line at waist level, and actually rather complemented Elrond's knee-length toga-style robe; which was adorned with various odd symbols and multicolored finger smudges. The hair and the beard didn't even come close to matching, but at least the mystery of the missing library paste was solved. Elrond's ensemble was further accessorized with a smoldering herbal concoction twisted into a scrap of parchment and a rose tucked into the band of his headphones, one item over each ear. Jammed down over all was something resembling a cross between a shower cap and a geriatric sea urchin. Personally, Glorfindel thought it looked more like an item he'd once seen in an adult shop in Minas Tirith, but his mind abruptly veered away from the image such a comparison invoked. Some things just didn't bear thinking about.

Cirdan himself had never been so magnificently hirsute…

…_wait a minute._

_Loooong_ facial hair, Glorfindel observed with growing horror. It was bad enough to know he would carry this picture with him to his second trip through the Halls of Mandos should such an unlikely event occur, but there was the distinct possibility many sleepless nights looming in between. He scrambled to his feet, bounding across a huge black amp knocked over during his unannounced entry and bolted for parts unknown. If Glorfindel hadn't been in such a hurry, he figured it might have been worth hanging around just to watch Elrond set his new 'do ablaze. Another flying leap cleared Erestor without ruffling so much as a hair or disturbing his newly acquired layer of dust.

Erestor didn't even blink. He merely sat on the floor looking as if he wanted to cry. He may have sat there indefinitely if Glorfindel hadn't suffered an attack of conscience and doubled back to snatch him by the collar of his robe, dragging him out of Elrond's line of sight before retreating once more. Another long moment passed before Erestor finally blinked and heaved himself to his feet and began picking his way cautiously to his room through a minefield of fallen paintings and assorted debris. A scream of feedback and the thumping of Elrond's guitar resumed, vibrating the floor tiles. Several crystal chandeliers rattled precariously in Erestor's wake.

"_Rumor's spreading 'round…in that Beleriand town…_

'_bout that shack outside Doriath…"_

Erestor barely raised an eyebrow as a string of scathing, creative curses emanated from across the gardens before steadily growing nearer. Shortly thereafter, the door of Erestor's room banged open to admit Glorfindel, his expression one of utter defeat.

"There is no more pitiful sight in all of Arda than a bald-butted horse," Glorfindel stated morosely into the merciful silence before Elrond's off-key wailing resumed. "Asfaloth is wearing a paper bag over his head."

"_Well, I'm shufflin' through the Umbar sand…but my head's in Vinyalondë…_

_I'm shufflin' through the Umbar sand…but my head's in Vinyalondë…_

_The blues has got a hold on me…I believe I'm gettin' dizzy…"_

Both elves were overcome by simultaneous full-body shudders. "Dizzy?" Erestor muttered facetiously. "One can only hope such a promising state shall segue forthwith into unconsciousness." He spared Glorfindel an unsympathetic glance in the midst of stuffing socks into his suitcase. "I shall borrow one of your own nefarious sentiments, my friend, and advise you to 'Suck it up.' I have a plan."

"Does it involve the creative deployment of multiple sharp objects?" Glorfindel asked hopefully.

"Tempting, but nothing so dire. Nor does it call for barricading ourselves in the wine cellar _or_ performing an exorcism."

"It was an emergency, what can I say?" Glorfindel defended, his mien radiating wounded righteousness. "So…what _is _this plan?"

"I have a sudden, overwhelming urge to find myself," Erestor replied. "Somewhere very far away. He paused, looking thoughtful. I believe I remember hearing of a quaint little place called the 'Hotel California.'

"Does it have a pool? Wait a minute…how are we going to get there? There's no way Asfaloth is going anywhere."

"Just stick a plunger to his head and let him pretend he's a unicorn," Erestor grumbled under his breath.

"Hah?"

"I said if I have to, I'll call "Omar's Rent-A-Mumak."

Glorfindel perked up. "Cool…I like convertibles. Can I drive this time?"

Erestor resisted the urge to beat _his_ head against the doorframe; once begun, it was entirely too habit forming. "Not on your life. I may, however, tie you on top of the canopy so you may wave at everyone," Erestor replied impatiently, waving his hand rapidly in front of the Vanya's face to regain his attention. "Glorfindel. Packing. Remember? Get moving."

"Give me a minute to grab my stuff…better yet, make it five. I'll stop off at the wine cellar on the way.

"Oh no, you don't… If I allow you anywhere near there, we'll never get out of here. _I'll_ go…oh, and Fin? _Do_ leave the 'Balrogbusters' t-shirt at home this trip, so I don't have to bother myself with pretending I've never seen you before." Erestor then took a deep breath to fortify himself before making a hasty exit. Just for safety's sake, he stuffed his fingers into his ears again.

Glorfindel pouted momentarily before sprinting for the door. "Be sure you grab the First Age 495...there's only two bottles left!" he yelled helpfully down the hallway to Erestor's rapidly retreating figure.

Erestor removed a finger from one of his ears just long enough to offer a rude gesture in reply.

Twenty minutes later, the front door of Imladris slammed behind them and a note fluttered to the floor. In Erestor's elegant, flowing script, it read:

'_**THE Vanya and the OTHER Noldo are indisputably OUT.'**_

_**********_

A/N: My bad. Heh. All due apologies to Billy Gibbs & Co. of ZZ Top. I really shouldn't poke fun at his 'hat', but just couldn't resist.

Acknowledgment also goes to the above for the tunes Elrond is mangling herein-

"Sharp Dressed Man", "My Head's in Mississippi", and "La Grange". Marvelous stuff!

=^..^=


End file.
